So, in case anyone was unaware, there is currently an official heatwave status plastered on the UK. If you live here, it cannot have escaped your notice that it is rather humid. So hardly anyone bothered to turn up for English today, which was period five. Only six of us made it. Our teacher was rather at a loss, so she decided we should all traipse down to the school library and choose a Classic book to read, and take it outside and delve into the realms of fiction (as my old English teacher used to say!). I had just picked up a copy of Wuthering Heights - been dying to read it for ages - when my teacher turned to me and said;
"You know, Anwen, I haven't read any of your work for a while. Why don't you write a poem instead?"
With my ego successfully stroked, I agreed, and put back Wuthering Heights (one day! One day!) and reached for some sheets of scrap paper instead. I wrote the poem in about 10 minutes so it's obviously not world-class, but I think it's semi-decent:
So what is love? If as a Summer's day,
A melting coin of gold with stolen light
That seeks its lover's kisses, cool and sweet,
Then what becomes of love when skies are grey?
And bitter stars bejewel the raven night?
Does love need Summer warmth to find its feet?
Can ashes thrown from flames burn without heat?
Or does love, as the blossoms, fade away
Without the touch of Summer's fancy flight?
Or does love through the ragged storms still stay
To resurrect the Summer through delight?
Then -
Anonymous love is, and thus its plight
Is doubt bestowed upon its kind by lovers
Who seek to pour their Autumn rains on others
And through the blist'ring passions of the Summer,
Think only of themselves with one another.
I used a random rhyme scheme to emphasise the randomness (new word) of the weather and seasons, and also because I like experimenting! I love extended metaphors, could you tell?
So, a good end to an awfully hot day. I'm sunburnt. Owch.
'Till we meet again!Labels: poem |
posted by AnwenKya at 
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